[Folk horror + fiercely protective wife + fated showdown + ruthless action]
The day my grandfather died, half the red lanterns on the old street went dark.
He left behind a red coffin nailed shut, gripping my hand tightly as he said:
“Yang’er, don’t open the coffin before you turn twenty-four! Don’t paint its eyes! And whatever you do... don’t look back!”
As the last paper effigy maker of the old Xu family, all I wanted was a quiet life running this rickety shop.
Then the bronze-armored corpse of the Longevity Cult trampled the old street and tore my Five Tiger Generals to shreds with its claws.
At the brink of despair, the red coffin burst open, and a sea of red silk surged like blood across the sky!
The icy beauty in a phoenix coronet and bridal robes, her bare feet hovering above the ground, wiped out countless ghosts with a mere gesture.
She gazed down upon all living things, yet bent only to me:
“Big brother, it’s late. Let’s... go home.”
My name is Xu Yang. Yang, as in “sun.”
But I don’t know that another “me” is hidden in the shadows of this world.
He crafts with white bones; I craft with yellow paper. He traps living souls; I guide the dead.
The Six Judges of Hell, the Three Elders who bind souls, and the Longevity Cult’s leader hold court in Fengdu.
They say I am the only medicine this world needs, a body of pure yang that must be sacrificed to Heaven.
But they don’t know that when the Book of Yin-Yang Merit reaches its final page,
and I use the world as paper and my flesh and blood as bamboo, to paint the final eyes in this mortal realm,
even the gods filling the heavens are nothing but paper dolls!
Supernatural writing must be sensational. Really speechless